the cross'd bite

(I basically took all of January off from the blog thing, but I'm going to start posting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday again.) 

I'm delighted that I had the opportunity to hammer through the mud on my bicycle yesterday. So if you helped set up Cross'd Bite, gracias. We should do this more often.

The lady bear and I got to the slag heaps around 11 to help string up some course tape. We parked at the end of Goodman street in front of a foreboding and rusty chain link fence, and took the well worn muddy path around the edge of the thing. I have to wonder why someone even bothered to put up the barricade.

The skies were a flat grey, and the rain was falling steadily. Pushing the fluorescent death machine of doom, the lady bear and I hiked back to the black dirty piles of slag. The heaps are dark, gritty, and covered in scrubby little grasses. Slag is like a depressed Western PA imitation of a sand dune.

Stick, Ted, Eric and Eryn were the only people on the heaps so early. Eric's cargo bike was loaded with four cases of Straub beer, and a roll of yellow tape to make the place look like a 'cross venue. After a few minutes Ted proclaimed "However you decide to set up the course, I agree. Unless it sucks." and rode off to lead a group of riders back to the hill. On the edge of the hill top, I spied the rusty shell of a burnt out station wagon and ran over to throw my backpack under the shelter of its collapsing roof. Next to the bullet holes on its tail gate was scribed "The End"

We grabbed some bricks and attempted to pound in stakes to string the tape, but there was a layer of broken asphalt three inches under the slag, so even with mighty blows from our bird-like cyclist upper bodies, the stakes wouldn't sink down. Fortunately, there was a big pile of rubble next to "The End" so we were able to pile up chunks of concrete around the sticks and get them to hold. After a few minutes, we had something that resembled a legit 'cross course:


Riders started trickling in and a tiny little dog ripped across the course at full tilt. A tattooed guy took a 2X4 out of his messenger bag and tossed it across the heaps. The dog sprinted to retrieve the piece of wood that was as big as his body. The lady bear and I went over to talk to him and watch his dog sprint up and down an impossibly steep slag hill with a stick in his mouth as we waited for the race to start.

The Hammer was a messenger from Poland. He carried his dogs, Sugar and Tank, in his messenger bag. They were brother and sister, but Sugar looked looked like a jack rustle, and Tank resembled an athletic pug. He threw the stick down the hill yet again and Tank tirelessly sprinted back up. "I did this for 2 and a half hours the other day. And he still went home and fucked shit up."

Finally we lined up for the race. I was wearing my extra visible striped un-official race shirt, and when someone said go, I went for it. Chris Beech had the hole shot for about ten seconds before I passed him and took the lead. I was running a pretty big gear on my fixed gear 29er (38X17), so I just concentrated on staying on top of it and powering through the mud. After a few minutes, I rode the run up that marked the end of the first lap, and looked behind me. There was no one in sight.

Dave Gingrich photo

I had tons of energy I needed to burn off, so I didn't let up at all for the remaining 12 laps. I started passing people and on the 6th or 7th lap, I caught up to Chris. "Montana you motherfucker, did you just lap me?" "Aye." I said, "But it's cool man. It's cool."

"Well I'd rather it was you than somebody else." he replied. After that I stopped worrying about anybody catching me, and just focused on having fun riding my bike as fast as possible. My corduroy pants were so covered in mud that they actually started holding water in the places I had them cuffed, and the stripes on my shirt were no longer visible, but I was having such a good time that I didn't even notice. I finished up the 13th lap and stopped the clock right at one hour, which is exactly how long the race was supposed to take.

Victory! (and horsey teeth)

Afterwards we headed to the little post race potluck and loaded up on pasta salad and sloppy joes. The lady bear made a giant tray of cupcakes from scratch, which were quite delicious. We relaxed for a while until I realized that my back was still covered in slag, and decided that I needed to bathe, at which point we headed home. But I must say it was a grand day in the mud. I wish every day was like that.


Dave's pictures of the event

Bruceton Mills CX 2009

The Bruceton Mills Cross' was in the middle of no where, but it was more somewhere than where I originally went. I crossed the top of some lonely mountain, drove past Quebec run, and entered WV. There was a house with arrows on it and I did stopped to check out the mail box, but I did not see any signs proclaiming "Race Here!," so I continued to Grumble on. I drove down a rocky dirt road, over to a church, a couple miles to the right of the church, then a couple miles to the left. When I reentered PA, I knew I had gone to far, so I backtracked up the rocky road of ice cream.

Before long, I saw the Shogren bus rolling down the hill in the opposite direction, so I swung the Grumbler around and followed them. They went to the house where I had originally stopped to look for a sign denoting a bicycle race. There was in fact a sign, but it was not visible from the direction I drove in. Oi.

The race started at the bottom of a steep gravel hill, but the rest of the course was smooth and short grass. The traction was awesome, so I could really rail the tight turns without worrying about slipping (but I did have to worry about clipping a pedal.)

15 minutes later than scheduled, I lined up next to Stephen Rowand, who had beaten me last race at Marilla. We were given a quick 'go', and I and stuttered trying to get my big gear turning through the rocks. I was one of the last ones to get to the top of the hill, but after a few minutes, Steve and I got off the front and started to build up a little lead. For the better part of two laps we traded places, I would pass him on the open flat sections, and he would come back when we hit the tight spots.

From Drop Box

On the third lap I decided to make a run for it. I got on the gas on one of the flat sections, and did not let up for the remaining five laps. I just kept my head down and focused on turning the cranks.

From Drop Box

Before long, I had a decent gap on Steve, but I really, really wanted to win a race, so I kept hammering. When I crossed the finish line, I was about 50 feet away from lapping the 3rd and 4th place single speeders. I'm quite pleased with that.

After crossing the line I waited for Justin, who had just completed and enjoyed his first bicycle race. I stumbled over to the garage and loaded up on cornbread, chili, and hot chocolate in an attempt to recover before the A race. We stood around ringing cow bells and watching Stick win the B race in cuffed jeans before heading back to the grumbler for warm clothes.

Soon enough, it was time to race again. After I making some coffee, I felt fresh, so I rolled happily down to the start line. The A field was small, but with Gunnar, Gerry Pflug, and others, it was going to be a plenty fast race.

Again I had trouble getting my 39x17 started on the hill, and I immediately found myself in dead last with Stick. I hung near the back for the first lap, but on the second I decided to go for it.

From Drop Box

I sprinted across the flat section at the bottom of the course, and caught and passed the large group that Gunnar was leading. Gerry was still up front, but to my surprise, I was closing the gap on him when we hit the hill on the back side of the course.

(photo cred be bestowed upon the rob lochner)

A few seconds later, we hit the twisty section again, and Gunnar decided to crush my dreams. He went flying by, and hooked up with Gerry, and they immediately started pulling away from me. At that point, riding two races fixed was starting to catch up with my legs, but I held onto third for a while longer.

On the next lap, I hit an off camber turn heard a "fwoosh!" and my back tire went soft. Knowing I had burped it, I silently swore, but decided to keep riding until the tire pulled off the rim or went completely flat. Every time I hit a bump, or did a hard turn, a little more air leaked out. I rode it for three more laps and stayed in 3rd, but at the 40 minute mark, I had to either stop or risk a spectacular crash. Betsy offered to let me use her bike, but the pedals were wrong, so she ran off and grabbed Justin's cross check for me. I jumped back on the course, but I was almost in last by that point. I decided just to concentrate on finishing the race.

I don't know if I could have held onto third for the remainder of the race, but if I wouldn't have flatted I would have tried like hell to. The Bruceton Mills race made me realize that I have the speed to hang with the fast guys, but I don't yet have the endurance to go all out for two races (racing the fixed gear probably didn't help.) Next year I'm going to run a free wheel and try to be competitive.

Gerry did end up beating Gunnar, and was rewarded with an absurdly large trophy. I ended up as the 3rd SS for the series, and was given a slightly smaller trophy for my SS win earlier in the day. I'm pretty sure that will be the last cross race for me this year, but with five days to go, the Dirty Dozen is looming.

Cross' next year looks like its going to be pretty outstanding with JR's 8 race Appalachian Bicycle Racing Association series.  


  

Marilla cross 09 report

I fired up the grumbler and ripped out to the lady bears house about 45 minutes later than I had originally intended. My late wake up left me 90 minutes to travel from Latrobe, PA to Marilla Park before the SS race started. I was checking my watch every few minutes as we rolled down the hi-way.

We finally arrived in the park at 9:20, with the race start scheduled for 9:30. I pulled my bike out of the grumbler's belly, bolted on the wheel and sprinted over to the registration. After sloppily filling out the paper work and paying my fee, I sprinted back and pulled my chamois and other clothes on (that's a poorly worded phrase. I had clothes on in the first place. I did not register naked.) With three minutes left to race time, I realized I had forgotten pins to attach my number to my jersey, so I went back to the reg pavilion and asked one of the ladies to stick two pins on. I love being late to shit.

(Rob Lochner faceboobs photo)

I lined up next to Don on his brand spankin' new (not really) SS el mariachi, and before I knew it, we were off. I immeadiatly dropped to the mid/ back of the pack as I was hit with how rough the course was. Roots and bumps were everywhere. Fortunately, I had been able to set up some Maxxis Raze's tubless on my deep v's a few days before, so I didn't have to worry about flatting, but the fact remained that I was the one of the only single speeders on a cross bike. At this point in the day the course was dry, and I definitely feel like a fat tires had an advantage.

Around the second lap, I started to get into the grove, and moved up to second. I was clearing the big steep climb (see later pictures) and the sand pit without having to get off my bike. Steve Rowand had a nice gap on me, but I was working to close it for a few laps. Before long my I stopped chasing Steve, and started running from Don. He had moved into third, and every time we hit a section that really slowed me down in the 39X17, he was closing in on his mountain bike. I would open the gap back up on the flat section, and I did manage to hold him off for the rest of the race.

After our race, the rain started to come down. At the start of race #2 it looked like the course was just damp, but before long, it turned into a slippery mess. Tess, Don, and I stood at the top of the big slippery climb and heckled riders that had crashed:

(all pictures from here on stolen from JR. Go here and see more)

I was genuinely excited to go race in the mud, and by the time the A race started, it was getting cold and miserable outside. Magnifico.

I lined up in the cozy middle of the pack, and off we went again. This time I was more focused on the amount of mud that was being sprayed into my eyes than I was on the roots. We hit the spiral of death (I can't find pictures of it. Use your imagination.) and a ton of guys got off to run through the mud. I stayed on my bike, and actually leaned against someone who was running for the duration of the spiral.

We wound around the off camber twists and turns of the course and hit the big slippery downhill before the big slippery climb. I locked my back wheel and started skidding down. Suddenly Rob Loehr blew by dressed in a cowboy outfit, and we collided in the slippery mess. Somehow, our shoes managed to get tangled up, and the top strap of my shoe sheared off. Awesome frigging design Northwave.

I ran up the hill, but I was forced to ride the remaining 55 minutes of the race with a left shoe that wanted to fall off my foot. Trying to ride a fixed gear through sloppy mud without a functional brake makes a man understand the importance of functional footwear.

(If you squint real hard you can see the missing shoe strap)

I feel like at some point in the race, the course reached terminal muddiness, the point when the soil had no more mud to give. At that time I believe that the traction actually became better, but I may have just been delusional.

When the Pflug and Mike Mihalik lapped me, I was actually a little happy. It meant one less lap in the mud. Hurray! Kind of. Pushing a big gear through that mud gets tiring, but to be honest, I was just pissed about my shoe. I mean how does one break a damn shoe?

I let Rob Lochner go by me in the last quarter mile of the race, but with a few hundred feet left, I decided I couldn't let him beat me. I put in a quick sprint and solidified a 13th out of 24. Only one off the middle. Nice.

I'm going to call the day a rip roaring success for the conglomerate. I took a second place in the SS, did not crash in the muddy A race, rode my fixed gear both times, ate garlic butter wings between races, and had oodles of fun cheering and ringing some cowbells. Marilla Cross' gets four skogkatts, out of four.

(yes. that was unnesisary. but I really wanted to use the skogkatts. click make big)

JR has a nice report on iplayoutside in which he manages to remember everything that happened in every race (I referred to his report when writing mine. He knows what happened in my race better than I do. Crazy.)

Murrysville 'Cross 2009

I planned on riding out to the Murrysville Cross race last Saturday, but I decided against it. It was raining and I did not want to be wet and freezing until I actually started racing.

By the time I did actually get there, it was 9:40, and the U19/Cat 4 race started in 20 minutes. I went over to the registration and tried to understand how much it was going to cost me to register for two races, but I was thoroughly confused. It was $5 more for each race than it was on line, $10 for a one day licence, $5 less if I did two, and something else. Too many numbers for my little brain. I was waffling between signing up for both races and skipping the U19 since it started in 15 minutes. Finally I signed up for the U19 with the stipulation that I would come back over later and register for the 3/4.

I rushed back to the Grumbler, threw my clothes on, and bolted on the Thunder's front wheel. There was just enough time to spin up and down the road before we lined up.

The race started with a sprint up the road before turning off to the left. I got up to the front of the pack early on and stayed there. Midway into the race I was in 2nd, with no one close behind, and the leader pretty far ahead. I tried to bridge the gap between me and the leader, but I was not making up any meaningful ground. At that point it occurred to me that I would probably be crushed in the 3/4 race. I rode the rest of the laps without much incidence and finished 2nd overall and 1st in the U19.

For my efforts I got a cowbell medal and a place on the podium, two tires (both for the 2nd in Cat 4), and a super swanky helmet (for the U19 win.) I felt a little bad when I saw that the other U19's looked like they were U16, but whatevs. I might as well use the youngness while I have it.

After that race I was a little tired, and seriously considering skipping the 3/4, but once I grabbed some free coffee (at least I hope it was free. Otherwise I stole some coffee) I was right as rain again. I stood around for an hour before the next race and watched in dismay as the mud covering my legs turned crusty.

At last it was time to line up for the next race. I was mingling in the field when Gregg said "Has anybody ever given you shit about not having a back brake?" "No, nobodys said anything" "Do you even use the front?" "No, I can't really get to it." I replied. The field gave a collective chuckle. I think I was the only SS in that race, and certainly the only fixed gear.

The starting line girl gave us a barely audible 'go' and we took off up the road. I found my self in the middle of the pack, and started to try and work my way up. The course twisted around and rolled back onto the road before going back into the grass. Up ahead, I saw a gnarly crass and several riders pile up around it. Someone yelled "Jay Downnnns!" (which is funny, because he was down, and his name is downs. heh heh.)

Fortunately, I was able to stay on the bike and go wide around the cf. I sprinted up to the first run up, jumped off, and tried to stay on my feet.

(picture stolen from Aaron Bennett's facebook)

I kept my head down and ground up the next section of power sucking grass. For the rest of the lap I continued picking people off, and somewhere around the middle of the second lap, I moved into 2nd place. I was genuinely surprised. I held onto 2nd for a lap or two before Jake Grantham went by me in a slippery turn. Another lap latter someone else passed in almost the same spot.

(photo pirated from Vaughn Wallace's facebook)

Churning the 39x17 through the mud was starting to wear me down, but every time I hit the road section I still had enough energy to get out of the saddle and sprint up. When we started the last lap I had a ProGraphics guy sitting right behind me. I tried to lose him for the remainder of the race, but I just couldn't get a gap on him.

We hit the road for the last time and I gave it everything I had, but he clicked into a faster gear and got me by half a wheel length for 4th.

With four 'cross races on the fixed poo poo thunder, I can honestly say that what I read here when I was looking for info on racing cross fixed is not accurate:

"If you want to race fixed gear cross, make sure you are comfortable with all sorts of flying dismounts and lots of off camber skidding stuff. Prepare to be utterly uncompetitive, but a crowd favorite."

Now that I'm starting to really get the technique of racing the fixed gear down, I don't think that I would be that much faster on a coasting bike, especially in the mud.

The Pittsburgh Post Gazette was there taking pictures of the race, and for some reason, they chose to publish my ugly mug bounding over a barrier:

I'm guessing they used my picture because my neon fixed gear with checkered deep V's and flipped cruiser bars is representative of most bikes at a cyclocross race.

(I can't find the actual damn paper, but I guess the color version is prettier anyway.)
Montana Miller of Greensburg jumps over an obstacle in the second Murrysville Cyclocross race held in Murrysville Community Park. Racers sometimes have to get off their bikes and carry them. Mr. Miller came 2nd in the Mens Category 4 & Under 19 race. Photo by: Tony Tye / Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (10/25/2009)

As far as I can tell, the above blurb, which is entirely about me, was the only coverage of the race in that paper. I'm hittin the big time now. Nice.

raccoon township 'cross

I have to qualify this post by saying that racing 'cross on a fixed gear is so much frigging fun. It really is. I had a blast. If you've ever ridden an old cruiser with a coaster brake and locked it up around a turn, you'll understand why I enjoyed it so much.

The course at Raccoon Township Park yesterday was very well laid out. Laps were about two miles long, plenty of turns, one dirt (mud after the first lap) section, and multiple off camber corners. There were only two places per lap that forced a dismount; one set of barriers, and one muddy set of log steps.

We had a solid day of rain on Saturday and through Sunday morning, so I knew it was going to get muddy. I rolled into the race early enough to take some practice laps, and the course was already soggy. I knew that it would probably be a better idea to race my mountain bike, but I really wanted to do a race on the Poo Poo Thunder II, and since I'm already out of the running for the month of mud overall, (I missed the first race because of Coopers Rock) I figured I might as well do it.

From Drop Box

The race started without much warning, and I got caught in the back. I spent the first flat section futzing with my watch and trying to get the timer to start. That was probably a mistake. Oh wells.

From Drop Box

For half of the first lap, we stayed in a pretty tight pack. But around the first set of muddy steps, things started to thin out and I became a little more comfortable.

From Drop Box

From Drop Box

I had to lock the back wheel up and skid down this muddy slope. I'm pleased to say that I made it without crashing everytime.

From Drop Box

(this pour soul was not so lucky)

The only way for me to slow down was to skid my back wheel. I would lock it up into and around a corner, sprint out, skid at the next corner, and so on. For the first 4 laps, it was fine. But when I came in for that 4th one and saw that there were still 4 more to go, I could have died. The course was becoming muddier, and it was taking more concentration (when I had less to give) to keep my bike upright.

All the skid/sprinting was taking its toll on me. Eventually I stopped skidding through the corners and started to just peddle slowly through them, which was certainly slower.

Before long my goal shifted from having a good finish to not getting lapped by the leaders.

When I crossed the line and started my last lap, I saw the lead pack a few turns behind me.

From Drop Box

From Drop Box

(I made it over the barriers every lap but one. On the forth or fifth time I was so tired that I skidded right into it. Running into the barrier is not the most effective way to cross it.)

I really started to push again, and I finished the lap with a few minutes to spare.

From Drop Box

I skidded across the line totally spent. Cross' really is hard. And I was not expecting the race to take over an hour. I figured that I finished very well into the back of the pack. But I was still going to call the day a success, because I didn't crash, I didn't touch my front brake, and I beat a few people.

I was cleaning up the Thunder and getting ready to pack it into the Grumbler when one of the volunteers came by and handed me a single speed third place envelope. "Huh? I was third?" I said in astonishment.

"Yep. Did you think you were lapped?"

"No definitely did not get lapped."
"Well then congrats." he said

I have no idea how I came in third, but hells, I'll take it. Yesterday was a good day. The next cross race is next weekend at Grove City, and I'll be on the fixed thunder again. Can't wait.